An observant nurse is trained to pick up on details that most folks wouldn’t see.
Including some things you would rather stay hidden…
“Did you catch all that?”
The receptionist at the Urgent Care center turned to Cami, the nurse who had been standing within earshot of my overly detailed explanation of why I was absolutely sure I was about to succumb to COVID-induced blot clots. Cami nodded pensively.
“Well, most of it, anyways…”
Although it had only been barely 2 and half days since I officially tested positive for COVID, it had been quite the journey (one which you can catch up on here)–one that led me straight to Death’s Doorstep.
After having a very unnerving skin-crawling experience, I had rushed to the nearest urgent care, where I was forced to recount everything that had led up to that moment. That moment that found me standing there, calves quaking, wasting my time talking when they should have been giving me immediate medical attention instead…
“C’mon on back to our triage room, and I’ll check you out. If we think you’re in immediate danger, we’ll bump you to the front of the line to see the doc, mmmkay?”
I was relieved to at least be receiving a basic medical inspection by a professional, so I very much obligingly followed Cami to the exam room. Interestingly, the wife of a good friend and former roommate of mine was also a nurse named ‘Cami’–and maybe that was why I had the feeling that I would be in good hands with this Cami as well.
“I caught the basic gist of your troubles, but why not go ahead and start from the top and tell me what’s going one with you?” Cami gently instructed while starting to take my basic vitals.
“Well, as you heard earlier, I tested positive for COVID a few days ago, and had been quarantining away from my family at a hotel–“
“Oh yeah? Which hotel?” Cami seemed like a person overflowing with genuine interest in others.
“The DoubleTree just a few minutes from here.”
“Oh, nice. Really beautiful place.”
“It is! Has a pond even!”
“Yup. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Continue…”
“Anyways, I’ve been having all these odd symptoms that started with some discomfort in my groin region–though I had a vasectomy earlier this year, so it could just be related to that–and has now transmogrified into these really odd sensations in my calves.”
“Oh, that’s not good…are you okay with me examining your inner thigh where you said you have felt some of that initial discomfort?”
“By all means, go ahead, Nurse. Well, what I was saying was that I really thought I might die in my sleep last night, and since I was all alone in the hotel room nowhere near any of my loved ones, I was rather scared.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Cami gently poked around where my thigh met my groin, inspecting for any sign of the blood clots I was convinced was lurking in that region.
“So scared that I wouldn’t even let myself fall asleep…” I continued.
It was at this point that I glanced down and was greeted not only by Cami’s gloved fingers prodding about, but also what appeared to be a trio of…of…were those…were those over-sized dried peaches?1A thousand pre-emptive pardons to my Momma–and pretty much every one else–for the TMI.
I’m not sure how else you would want me to describe..um…such a sight, but let’s just say it wasn’t pretty when I was suddenly reminded that–whoops!–I wasn’t wearing anything at all beneath my mesh shorts.
The good news, though, was that I was more focused on surviving long enough to hug my babies again, and wasn’t exactly concerned about “dressing to impress”–hell, if anything, I was a hot mess, rolling up to the place unbathed, double-masked, eyes bloodshot, and half my hair frizzing out from the side of my head instead of in my ponytail.
My thoughts wandered even more slightly off course, recalling how this wasn’t even the first time that I’ve had to have a nurse touch me in the, uh, how you say? “The Land Down Under.”
You remember that too, right? Of course you do.
Suddenly, Cami snapped me back into the present:
“Good news, I don’t feel any heat or lumps in that region–or in any other region where you mentioned having discomfort.”
“And that’s a tell-tale sign of a clot? Stupid internet didn’t mention that part. I could have rested a little bit easier knowing that bit of exculpatory information.”
“Ja, that’s one of the first things we learn about blood clots in nursing school. But it sounded like your situation was a bit more complex. Go ahead, please regale me with all the glorious details.”
“Oh, if you’re looking to be regaled, have you come to the right place! Allow me to lay it all out for you…”2And, no, this is not a pun referencing how I had inadvertently already ‘laid it all out’ there–and by ‘it’, I of course mean my larger-than-average-but-not-in-a-desirable-way wrinkly-ass scrotum and my hibernating ‘huge manatee’ that was also so wrinkly and amorphous that it was indistinguishable from the other man-lumps down there. What I mean to say is that it looked like I was the Universe’s attempt to balance out the famed uni-testicular bi-cyclist, Lance Armstrong, giving me the appearance of having been blessed with not one, not two, but three testicles. Oh, sorry Mom, if you’re reading this, I apologize for not putting a trigger warning up front. Oops!
At that point I proceeded to tell my attentive nurse every bit of minutia that I’ve shared with you, Dear Reader, so far–right down to the supernatural injury I had incurred while land-hunting. After all, maybe that was the true source of all my physical ailments and woes…
“Well, that’s all very interesting…I hope we can get it all sorted out by the time you leave here today.”
Cami listened patiently as I wrapped up my long-winded tale, Kevin Bacon reference and all.
“Thanks, Cami, you’ve been fantastic. You’ve really helped calm my nerves.”
“It’s been my pleasure. Oh, and speaking of ‘pleasure’…”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I’m not sure how to ask this, but…”
“Go ahead, at this point, you can ask me anything!”
It’s always good when you can build rapport with your local medical professional.
“You mentioned that you were staying in a hotel by yourself, away from your family…”
“Ja, that’s true–gotta keep my loved ones all healthy and safe!”
“Yes, well, sometimes, when husbands are away from the regular routine of their wives and kids, their habits…um…change…”
“I’m not sure if I’m following…I mean, I’ve probably haven’t been eating as healthy as I normally would–waaaay too many PB&J’s–if that’s what you mean.”
“Well, sure, there’s always that. But that’s not really what I’m talking about.”
“Okay, I admit I haven’t showered as much as I normally would at home…”
“No, no, not that either.”
Cami looked at me like I was a thick-headed school boy, too dull to understand the basic lesson being presented to him.
“Some might call it ‘an increase in incidents of self-abuse’…”
“Wait…What?“
Cami’s patience was seemingly wearing thin with this idiot of a patient.
“Oh, for ----- ‘s sake, have you been ‘going to town’ on yourself more than normal or not, man?!? You know…’pleasuring yourself’…’auto-erotic activities’–whatever you want to call it.”3Do you now see what I did there in the title. Eh? Eh? Bwa-ha-ha-hah!
I sat there, kinda stunned, not exactly sure how to respond.
I mean, I had pretty much discounted the possibility this story couldn’t get any more bizarre…
“Well, that is definitely an ‘interesting theorem,’ now isn’t it…”4Stay tuned–yes, ABSOLUTELY stay tuned!
Content created on: 28 October 2022 (Friday)
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